


Silk

by FolleDeJoie



Category: Pilgrimage (2017)
Genre: Bondage, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of past injury, Mild Language, blowjob, but like soft bondage i guess, david gets the care that he deserves, like the vanilla of bondage, modern!AU, slight PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:06:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25138171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FolleDeJoie/pseuds/FolleDeJoie
Summary: David exhaled slowly, eyes dipping to watch the way Diarmuid’s fingers tied the silk sash loosely around his wrist and through the bed post.“Is that too tight?” Diarmuid asked softly, drawing him back to the present. His thumb rubbed circles into his wrist soothingly and David shook his head. The Irishman smiled and nodded, leaning forward to kiss the knuckles on both hands that were now secured above his head.-
Relationships: Brother Diarmuid & The Mute, Brother Diarmuid/The Mute
Comments: 7
Kudos: 22





	Silk

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [violet](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25135027) by [elizabethgee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elizabethgee/pseuds/elizabethgee). 



David exhaled slowly, eyes dipping to watch the way Diarmuid’s fingers tied the silk sash loosely around his wrist and through the bed post.

Diarmuid had always loved it when David pinned him down, had made the point of explicitly telling him on multiple occasions how good it felt when his rough hand circled both his wrists. At first David had been sceptical, but the boy’s enthusiasm soon put him at ease; that, and the way that he moaned and thrashed in ecstasy whenever David manhandled him into position.

Diarmuid had sat him down that evening and nervously pulled out the long silk fabric that he had bought off the internet. David’s eyes had widened, flickered between the blushing young man and the way his fingers rubbed over the soft material. He had assumed it would be for Diarmuid, and he was surprised when the younger man had blushed and asked him if he’d like to be the one tied up. He’d never thought about it before, had always been happy enough to pin his boyfriend down and revel in his moans, but he was shocked to feel his cock stir in interest at the idea.

“Is that too tight?” Diarmuid asked softly, drawing him back to the present. His thumb rubbed circles into his wrist soothingly and David shook his head. The Irishman smiled and nodded, leaning forward to kiss the knuckles on both hands that were now secured above his head. David sighed contentedly as Diarmuid broke away and straddled his hips, leaning back in to press their lips together. He opened his mouth almost immediately and their tongues curled around each other sensually, as if they had all the time in the world to just explore one another.

The broader man could feel himself hardening under the ministrations, Diarmuid’s thighs bracketing his hips and his hard cock rubbing against his own. Soon they were both moaning as Diarmuid rocked forward, grinding instinctively and setting David’s blood on fire.

Diarmuid broke away once more, panting heavily as he tried to catch his breath. His curls were wild, his cheeks flushed and alluring, that pink mouth just begging to be taken and David groaned at the sight. The young man grinned cheekily and hovered so tantalisingly close to him; not quite close enough, and he knew it.

“Guess this means you’re ready?” He asked, and David rolled his eyes, knowing the reaction it would gather. Sure enough, Diarmuid’s gleeful laughter rang out around them and David all but melted.

He felt his cock twitch in anticipation as the younger man slid down his chest. His soft lips pressed to his skin, hands skating up and down his sides and thighs in a way that had his breath hitching in his throat. Diarmuid’s eyes met his own just as his tongue ran over the sensitive patch beneath his navel and he couldn’t contain his heavy moan at the sight. The Irishman smiled as if he knew exactly what the elder was feeling, and he nipped at the flesh playfully before continuing down.

His hands instinctively reached for those soft curls but were stopped by the material binding his wrists to the bed frame. His fingers clenched around nothing, wrists testing the pull of his bonds but there was no escaping the knot that Diarmuid had meticulously looped. His throat bobbed as he swallowed down his nerves, focus drawn instead to the kisses that the other man was pressing to his hip.

Diarmuid buried his nose in the small junction where his hip met his thigh, groaning as his hands tightened on his muscled thighs. He leaned up and kept their eyes locked as his hand slowly trailed over his neglected cock. His touch was feather light, fingertips skirting over the overheated skin and David’s hips bucked in search of more friction. Diarmuid chuckled, leaning down to touch his tongue to the sensitive tip that had David groaning, squeezing his eyes shut.

His shoulders had started to ache from the position he was tied in, arms held over his head, but it paled compared to the agony of Diarmuid’s teasing tongue as it swirled around the head of his cock, lapping at the pre-cum that gathered. David’s breath caught in his chest and his toes curled into the soft sheets beneath them when the younger man sucked the head into his mouth with an obscene moan that vibrated through them.

He managed to pry his eyes open into a squint and his fists clenched at the sight before him: Diarmuid, eyes closed and brow scrunched up in concentration as he took another inch into that blissful mouth, hips thrusting against the bedspread in search of his own pleasure. His honey curls were stuck to his forehead, cheeks flushed a delicious pink like when he’d forgotten his sunblock on the beach. The sight had his dick twitching and he had to bite his lip to focus on not thrusting up into that glorious wet heat, especially when that devious tongue curled around his shaft.

He was so lost to the sensation of the way his lover sucked him down like it was his favourite thing in the world that for a moment he forgot the position he was in. His wrists pulled once more at his bonds, hard enough to make the bed frame groan, and something inside him… shifted. He couldn’t explain it even if he wanted to, but that low curl of heat that had been building inside of him was slipping into something cold and sharp. Where before he hadn’t minded the pull in his shoulders, with his eyes closed it was the only thing he could think about. The strain on his muscles, the way his chest was on show, vulnerable and unguarded.

He felt that ball coil tighter inside his chest and he forced himself to look down at where Diarmuid was bobbing his head slowly, completely focussed on his ministrations and trying to swallow down as much of him as he could. They both knew that he wouldn’t be able to take the whole thing, though he had tried valiantly on multiple occasions. He seemed to be doing the same tonight, one hand gripping the shaft and steadying it as he relaxed his throat as best as he could. The sight was arousing, the knowledge that Diarmuid was enjoying doing this to him pushing back some of the panic but there was something niggling away in the back of his mind.

Now that he had started thinking, he couldn’t stop: where before he had been loose, swept away in the sensation and the moment, he could now feel himself pulling away. He shifted on the bed and it brought attention to his scars, the way they rubbed over the cotton, and suddenly it was the only thing he could focus on. The scars that still pained him on winter days, that had him covering up in the summer for fear of curious eyes. How long it had taken him to recover from when he had received them and how he hadn’t been able to lie on his back for months without fear of re-opening the wounds.

He had the sudden vivid memory of his time in the make-shift hospital that his squad -or the few who had made it out of the explosion- had dragged him to. It had been hot and stuffy, and he hadn’t been entirely aware of his surroundings for the longest time, but he sure as hell remembers the way the doctors had tugged at the shrapnel that had embedded in his back. The way he had flinched and shouted and tried to escape the pain, the way they had held him down on his front and hadn’t been able to spare enough morphine to knock him out. The way he had screamed until his throat was torn and raw and he could do nothing but sob like a child, whimper like a wounded animal. _God_ , he could still feel it: his back torn and burned, his shoulder muscles tensed up and straining with the need to escape from the agony.

He swallowed and tried to force himself away from his past but now that he had started, he found it harder and harder to focus on the moment. Diarmuid, unaware of his boyfriend’s inner turmoil, kept bobbing on his cock with both hands braced on his thighs to hold himself up. He pulled off briefly to suck in a breath, a trail of spit dripping from his reddened lips, before sinking back down.

And _fuck_ , he didn’t know why he had to _be_ like this. He didn’t know why he couldn’t just be normal, a normal boyfriend with normal problems, who didn’t hide away from fireworks and could talk to his partner’s friends without making a fool of himself. He felt his eyes tearing up and he scrunched them shut, trying to quell his ragged breathing and focus on the pleasure. His fists trembled where they were clenched above his head.

His heart pounded in his chest, old terror soaking through his arousal and he cringed as he felt himself start to flag. Shame had a tear slipping: what kind of man was he that he couldn’t keep it up for this gorgeous creature who was practically worshipping his cock? His body was his tool, finely tuned and reliable, and he prided himself in being able to use it for Diarmuid’s pleasure. To have it fail him during the one thing he could usually count on filled him with humiliation and a small sob escaped him as he turned his face to the pillow.

Diarmuid moaned, pulling off to wrap both hands around the shaft and pump it languidly.

“You like that, babe? You gonna give me what I want?” he purred, voice wrecked and David nodded quickly. He bit his lip and tried to focus on the slender fingers that worked him over, the way Diarmuid’s tongue flicked out over the head; he pictured them both together the day before, Diarmuid’s breathy moans as he bounced on David’s cock as he gripped his hips; the way his eyes twinkled when he made him laugh, the pride he felt at being able to hold his hand outside.

He could feel himself starting to twitch and stiffen again and relief washed through him that he could _do this_ , could give Diarmuid what he wanted, could show him how much he wanted him. He tried to let himself fall back into the feeling of Diarmuid’s hot mouth but his hands clenched and spasmed above him. Wanted to pull him up and taste himself on those bruised lips and hold him tight, reverse the roles and return the favour. He wanted to run his fingers through those soft locks, wanted to throw an arm over his eyes to hide his tears. He wanted and wanted but he couldn’t and-

The silk fabric dug into his wrists almost painfully as he pulled at it instinctively, and the panic returned with a vengeance with the idea that he was trapped, couldn’t get loose and what if something happened and he was helpless, what if he couldn’t get free in time and protect the man he loves, what if what if _what if…_

His breathing came in short bursts, the bedframe creaking ominously as he strained against the restraints. His terror overshadowed his arousal and he could feel himself softening again, adding to his shame.

Diarmuid pulled off and David opened his eyes briefly but wished he hadn’t when he caught his boyfriend frowning down at his traitorous cock. He felt pathetic, wanted to cover himself up, hide himself away until Diarmuid realised that he didn’t want him anymore. He was broken, useless, couldn’t even keep it up and-

“David?” Diarmuid rasped, voice ragged from his previous ministrations. His hands moved from the flaccid member to stroke through the coarse hair on his upper thighs. “David, what’s-”

“ _Don’t stop_ ” David mumbled, trying to keep the desperation from his words. He could do this, _he could_ , he just needed to stop thinking, just wanted to be good for him. “I’m _sorry_ , please, please don’t stop-”

Diarmuid let out a sound that could only be described as wounded, and David knew that he’d fucked it up. He’d wanted to give this to him, thought he could do this for him. He felt the bed dip as Diarmuid shifted and something visceral lashed through him at the idea that he was going to leave him like this, wildly convinced that he deserved the punishment for not living up to his expectations. Cold terror flooded through him and he felt fresh tears itch as they trailed down his cheeks.

Warm hands reached over and touched his wrists, slender fingers unwrapping the knots they had meticulously fastened. A wave of relief hit David like a punch to the gut as he felt the fabric loosened and removed, those soft hands gently rubbing the circulation back into his tingling extremities. They slowly lowered his arms back down to the bed, stroking over his taut muscles. He was tense, could feel his whole body aching with how stiff he had become in his humiliation.

“ _Sweetheart,_ ” Diarmuid breathed out, and David flinched when he felt those sticky hands cupping his cheeks. Diarmuid shushed him gently, thumbs swiping at the tears as the older man’s chest jerked with the sobs he wanted to keep sealed away. “Baby, it’s okay, you’re okay…”

“ _Please_ , I-I’m sorry, I’m sorry, don’t go…” David babbled, and the Irishman pressed his lips to the older man’s forehead with a whine.

“I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered, pressing another kiss to his clammy skin. “Can you look at me sweetheart? Can you open your eyes for me?”

David exhaled shakily, forcing himself to blink open his puffy and irritated eyelids. He could only imagine the pathetic sight he made, and it had a fresh batch of tears blurring his vision as he tried to keep his gaze locked with Diarmuid’s. There was a worried furrow to his brow, eyes sparkling more than usual, but he smiled when David did as he was told.

Diarmuid lay down by his side on their bed, pulling him into his arms. One of his hands ran through his messy hair, lightly scratching over his scalp, while the other stroked soothingly over his back. David hid his face behind his newly freed hands, burrowing into Diarmuid’s neck as he tried to control his breathing. He could feel Diarmuid was still at half-mast where they were pressed together, and he felt like the worst piece of garbage in the world.

This was something that he’d wanted -that they’d both wanted- and he was so ashamed at himself that he couldn’t even get this right. Diarmuid had been so excited, so giving, and David had completely ruined their evening.

He brought one of his shaking hands down to cup the younger man, determined to at least give him something, but Diarmuid hissed and gently pulled it away, lacing their fingers together.

“I can… do this for you…” David mumbled into his neck and Diarmuid shook his head, pressing a kiss to his hairline.

“I know you can babe, but you don’t need to,” he said, so softly that David wanted to die.

“But-”

“ _David._ ” Diarmuid cut him off, pulling back until they were face to face. He couldn’t hide away from that concerned gaze that cut through him.

Diarmuid kissed him on the side of his mouth, on his chin, and finally on his lips. He didn’t stop kissing him for a long time, smothering him in gentle actions and soft words and slowly, David melted into them. That sharp sense of panic was gradually replaced with something more delicate; something warm and comforting, something that swelled in his lungs and had his heart skipping a beat.

Eventually he had calmed down enough for the tears to stop, his stuttered breathing once again stable. His eyes were itchy and swollen, and his body felt clammy with drying sweat, but he was utterly surrounded by the man he loved. Reality wormed its way back into his thoughts, old memories and emotions once more pushed to the catacombs of his mind with each swipe of Diarmuid’s thumb against his knuckles. They lay like that for some time, holding each other close as Diarmuid continued to whisper soothingly. David focussed on the way his fingers untangled the knots in his hair, the lingering scent of his camomile bodywash almost hidden beneath their shared musk, his steady heartbeat comforting.

“Okay?” Diarmuid finally asked, warm breath fanning over David’s ear and making him shiver imperceptibly. David took a moment to think about it, before nodding. The young man let out a happy sound, pressing more kisses to the skin that he could reach. “Can you tell me what I did wrong?”

“Wasn’t you” he growled quickly, pulling back just enough so that they were eye to eye. “ _Never_ you.”

He took another moment to gather his thoughts and Diarmuid seemed to understand this, content to let his eyes rove over the man he loved as he tried to explain.

“I don’t…” David sighed loudly, frustration seeping through at the knowledge that Diarmuid was blaming himself for something that _he_ did, and he tried not to let that lingering panic build up again. “I liked it. But there was… when I was injured, they had to… strap me down, to treat me. It was…” He swallowed roughly, pushing away the awful memories. “It’s been a long time, I didn’t think it would be…Jesus, I’m sorry, I know that you wanted-”

Diarmuid held a finger gently to his lips, halting him. There were tears gathered in the corner of his eyes that he blinked away, but the look on his face was determined.

“You don’t ever have to apologise for something like this, alright? I’m not gonna lie, I was definitely into it,” there was an endearingly rosy flush to his cheeks as he spoke, but despite his awkwardness he pushed forward. “But I only want to do it if you’re into it too. If you ever feel uncomfortable, or like you want to stop, I’ll always stop for you. Knowing that you’re happy and like… in the moment? That’s the biggest turn on in the world for me.”

David’s heart stuttered in his chest, butterflies unfurling in his stomach as Diarmuid sealed his words with another brief kiss to his lips. He knew he was telling the truth, and it did help to calm his nerves, but he still felt uneasy.

“I want… I want you to be happy, Diarmuid” he whispered. “I want to be good for you”

“You _are_ good for me. You make me so, so happy sweetheart, you’ve got no idea how much I…” the young man’s voice cracked with emotion and he surged forward to kiss him again, harder this time.

David sighed, this time in bliss. He could feel the emotion flowing through their kiss, the passion and the all-consuming love that he hoped he had shown Diarmuid. He loved him: loved the way he held him like he was something precious, loved the way his mouth moved when he spoke his name, loved his freckles and his blush and his hazel eyes that always sought his own. He loved him, he loved him, he-

“Love you” David murmured into their kiss and Diarmuid inhaled sharply, nodding and pushing his face into the crook of the scarred man’s neck as their arms wrapped around each other tightly.

“Me too” he whispered into the darker man’s neck, pressing fleeting kisses to any part of him that he could reach. “I love you too, so much.”

The stayed curled around each other for a long time, smiling and laughing at how ridiculous they were and how disgustingly happy they were. It was long after their last tears had dried and they had found their usual sleeping positions, David spooned around Diarmuid’s back, that David spoke once more.

“If you… if you want me to try it on you, that’s… that’d be fine.” His lips danced against the back of Diarmuid’s neck and the younger man shivered. His slender fingers squeezed where the calloused ones rested over his heart, and he smiled into the darkness of their room.

“That sounds like a plan” he replied. There was a moment of hesitation and David felt the pale neck heating up beneath his lips. “But actually… there’s something else I had in mind I thought we could try…”

**Author's Note:**

> So, this was inspired by a line in elizabethgee's amazing fic 'violet' that absolutely stuck with me and that I wanted to explore a bit further! Hope you enjoy soft boys who love each other because I definitely do x


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